


One More Time

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-07-31
Updated: 1998-07-31
Packaged: 2018-11-20 06:21:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11330271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Short story challenge.





	One More Time

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

One More Time by Jan

One More Time  
A 500-word Challenge Story by Jan.  
<>

* * *

December 29, 1997

Each time he swore it'd be the last. Once more, then he'd give it up for good. Now here he was again, hating the need within himself, coming back anyway.

Gearing down as he rounded the corner, he scanned the street for a likely spot. Close enough to see, but not close enough to be noticed. Not under a streetlight, god forbid. He wedged the car deftly into a space forty feet from the building. Perfect.

God, it was amazing how some things stayed the same. This street was always quiet at 2:30 a.m. Last time he'd been here it'd been early fall, leaves still green on the trees, a snap in the air. Now it was winter, the muddy snow a testament to the season. Without meaning to, he thought of what had changed since then . . . what he'd lost. He closed his eyes, shook the thoughts away. //Focus on the present. No way to get back what's gone.// But one thing was always the same. That fourth floor window was always lit when it seemed all the world but him was fast asleep.

Bundling his jacket closer around his body, he settled back and looked up at the window, into the room where the tv's flickering glow licked at the dark corners of the ceiling. What was he watching up there? A porn movie? A "psychic friends" infomercial? Was he even awake? Yeah, he was. Even back when they were partners, he'd hardly slept. Of course he'd had a lot on his mind, back then. //Don't.//Another of those things it was better not to think about at this hour of the night, especially not here.

Every time he came here it was harder. He used to come just to fantasize, to think about what it had been like, with him. Remembering what they'd done, he'd end up hard, touching himself on the shadowy street. Bringing himself off in the front seat of his car, looking up at the light in the window as he thrust into his hand. He'd come, pouring himself out with a wail of pure, primal want.

And he could still remember what that want had felt like. Back then he'd fantasized about what would happen if he went up there, just knocked on the door. He'd teased himself with the thought that he might actually do it. Then things had become more complicated. 

Too many memories. So much bitterness and accusation, too much to let go.

Even so, here he was again. Waiting, hoping, for a magic moment when things would feel alright. His damaged body needed that feeling. His heart, too. And it would come, when that strange blue light stopped flickering and he'd finally see the shadow pass before the window, lit from somewhere deeper within. For three seconds, time would stop, and he could almost forget.

Reaching across his body to lean the seat back, he settled in for the wait. This would be the last time. //Promise.//

[end]


End file.
